


All That We Hold of Heaven

by kazul9



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of a Past Minor Character Death, Touch-Starved, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9
Summary: Falling—the act of it, the emotion of it—means a lot of different things to different people.For Yuuri, it means everything.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri’s onyx-black feathers shimmer in the moonlight like jewels, shifting and changing with an opalescent rainbow across the dark. Anyone who’s caught sight of him in his natural form says that he’s gorgeous, a sight that even mortals, in their finite memory and lives, could never forget.

Yuuri wishes he could rip them out.

Pluck the darkness from his wings one by one, then tear the feathers interwoven into his hair, and the delicate down that runs down along his arms and backside. Bare himself, bleeding and raw but _clean_.

But they would only grow back.

His shame mars him, crawls through him in itching guilt that pokes through his skin to show everyone that there is no place for him.

There is a Heaven for the angels that haven’t destroyed themselves and all they’ve loved like Yuuri has. But Hell is a lie. There is no home for him on any plane of existence. There is no family, there are no friends. It’s been centuries since anyone’s tried to find him, and that’s fine by Yuuri.

(Except… when it _isn’t_. Which is always. It eats through his hollow bones, a constant chant of _alone_ and _forgotten._)

The night is icy. It’s not typical of this area at this time of year, but Yuuri doesn’t flee indoors like he would have if his feathers were white. It isn’t that he doesn’t feel the cold, he just puts up with it. He’d like to pretend that it’s because it’s another part of his punishment, but the truth is, the real punishment would be going inside.

And he can’t. He won’t. There’s no one out here to judge his choices except Yuuri himself, and he’s suffered for years. So many years that he doesn’t even know how long it’s been anymore. It’s… exhausting, but he deserves it. He knows he does.

Even if sometimes he doesn’t entirely understand it.

So Yuuri doesn’t move. He hasn’t moved in days. He would have gathered dust, if it weren’t for the wind and snow collecting around him. He used to worry about perceptive passersby seeing him, noticing his wings and knowing exactly what he is, but most aren’t going to notice a thing on the rooftop of the onsen. At most they’ll think they see a crow out of the corner of their eye. And it’s best that a bird is all they see. It’s been a long time since a mortal could perceive him without him trying to be seen, but last time it lead to him fleeing and abandoning his post until the lifetime of that human ended. He shouldn’t even talk to them if they notice.

(Even if he wants them to know him. He wants to scream and shout and be a part of something, _anything_. But he traded that away a long time ago.)

Maybe he’ll go for a walk soon. Don the skin of his mortal form, attempt to talk to some humans, see how the world is doing. Even if the people he would like to talk to most can’t even see him. Even if it’s like rubbing salt in a festering, ancient wound.

He lets out a soft sigh, watching the steam rise from his lips and into the flurry of snow around him.

This, at least, is a comfort. The moonlight has been consumed in the past few minutes—or has it been hours?—and the snowfall is thick enough that he can’t see beyond the onsen. The winter’s wrapped around him like a blanket, his skin as cold as the wind. The world might as well not exist beyond this little pocket he perches in. It makes it easier to try and forget everything, like he wishes that he could.

He’s just… tired. He doesn’t want this existence. But what else is there for him?

There’s a rustle in the air, a whisper of wind and feathers that Yuuri’s ears just barely pick up on. For a moment he wonders if it’s an actual crow, or maybe a seagull. He loves their cries come morning, a song that Yuuri can lean back and enjoy without ever moving from his spot. But they wouldn’t be out in this weather, at this time.

And neither would they sound so large.

Something settles onto the rooftop next to Yuuri, in a hush of snow and the murmur of wings settling. For a moment Yuuri hopes that if he ignores it, it will go away. But he knows this is the moment he’s been both dreading and waiting for, ever since his wings were stripped of their color.

So he turns, his disused bones cracking and settling and aching as he does so—and he’s nearly blinded. Or he _feels_ blinded. The being next to him is incredibly pale in the dimness; his bare skin is almost glowing like his pure, white wings are, his hair flowing and silver like he’d stolen the stars from the sky and spun them into a fine thread to hang long and loose from his head. And his _eyes_. They’re like the ocean on a clear, warm day. Or maybe the sky in the middle of winter, pale but vibrant all the same. Even though Yuuri’s spent a long time away from his own kind he knows how attractive they can be, but this being… he’s something above Yuuri’s wildest imaginations.

It makes Yuuri feel oddly naked, even though he’s the only one wearing clothes in this situation. Yuuri’s skin is darker than this angel’s to begin with, but with his time in the sun he’s developed quite the tan. His eyes are an ordinary brown, and his wings—well.

Yuuri should probably say something instead of just stare, even if the angel is staring as well. But Yuuri hasn’t talked in years, and it was never something he was good at to begin with, and—

Then his eyes catch on the sword in the angel’s hand. The blade is thin and crystal clear with a golden hilt, and Yuuri would recognize it anywhere, even if he’s never seen one in person before. Only an archangel can wield something that divine, something with so much power.

Only an archangel can slay another angel.

Yuuri’s heart thunders in his ears, his breaths coming short. He knew this would come, someday. Heaven ties up all its loose ends eventually; it was always a threat of a story as he was growing up and learning his duties. He never had to worry about it—he never _thought_ to worry about it until it was too late.

And now he’s going to die.

(If he has to die by anyone’s hands, though, he might not mind these hands so much. He’s been here, by this onsen, for _so long_. He’s seen this town shrink from thriving, renovating and downsizing again and again—until it hit this small, uncertain state.)

Yuuri’s tears burn in a way that is entirely unangelic, but not a way that’s unfamiliar. He’s known tears since long before he lost the white of his wings. Maybe it’s just fate that he ended up this way. Everything was planned and meant to turn out like this in the end, was it not?

There’s no point in running. He can fly as fast as his wings can carry him, but he hasn’t used them in ages. He’s not sure he can get out of shape, but he’s rusty, and in front of him is one of the most powerful creatures in existence.

How ironic, that when the drive to move, to run, to _exist_ finally takes hold of him, he can’t use it.

Well, at least knowing his fate, he doesn’t have to think up any small talk.

He just barely bites back a hysterical laugh, instead looking toward the ground and curling his wings a little closer to himself. “Are you only here for me?” His voice is raspy, but whether it’s from disuse or the tears, he’s not sure.

“Would I be here for anyone else?” There’s an earnest curiosity to the angel’s voice that makes something in Yuuri ache.

But he can’t care. He can’t want. At least he’s come _only_ for Yuuri, and everything will continue on without him perched on the onsen’s roof. It’s what he deserves—he’s the one who screwed up in the first place.

Yuuri leans forward and bows his head, his hair falling away and exposing his neck. It’s not as long as it would be if he was human and had neglected it for so long. Still, it’s too long, but… Guess he won’t have a chance to cut it.

What even happens to fallen angels, when their existence ends?

“You aren’t going to fight?” The angel lets out a little breath. “Run? Anything?”

Yuuri actually laughs this time, in a broken sort of way. “Why bother? I have nothing to run for, and you'll just find me. Just… do it. Please. I know I have no right to ask you any favors, but if you can, make it quick.”

Quiet stretches on for a moment, only broken up by the gentle pitter-patter of flakes as the blizzard picks up around them. In this dark, he can’t even see the whole rooftop anymore. The slight glow of the angel only illuminates a small area around them, trapping them in a bubble.

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut. So much for mercy. Would it be quick anyway, though? How do angels—or, well, fallen angels—die? Will he bleed? He’s cut himself and bled before, but stabbing him through the heart with a mortal weapon would do nothing. He knows this is different, though. He knows that the most disgusting of the fallen are always eventually tracked down and slain.

But… why won’t this angel just do it?

“What are you waiting for?” Yuuri snaps, hands tightening into fists. “Just _do_ _it_ already, haven’t I suffered enough?”

“How… how can you just not fight?” The angel’s voice is so soft and so quiet that Yuuri can’t help but look up.

The angel’s face is carefully blank, but the grip on his sword is white-knuckled, and his eyes are shimmering.

Yuuri’s mouth falls open and he looks up to glare at the angel… “What do you _expect_? I’ve been sitting here on this rooftop, looking over—trying to be as quiet and helpful as I can to this town, from a distance, for years. _Centuries_. I… I’m _tired_.” His voice breaks on the word, and he curses his own weakness. “I’ve lived long enough in disgrace. Now that you’ve found me here I… I have nowhere else to go. This place is…” Hasetsu is home. He’s never been known to the people living here now—well, not technically, anyway. But this is where he found life.

And then lost it again.

“Then why don’t you stay?” The angel kneels down, getting on eye level with Yuuri and… He sets the sword aside.

What if Yuuri just reached out and grabbed it? What if Yuuri stabbed the archangel with it? He could _never_, the reason he fell was the opposite of something like this. But the fact is that this _angel_ doesn’t know this. Yuuri would assume that he’s new at this job, but no archangel gets to that position without going through excessive trials.

“What… What are you saying?” Yuuri hardly dares to breathe, his words more steam than substance in the frigid air.

The angel reaches out, taking Yuuri’s face and tilting it a little to examine him.

Yuuri knows exactly what he looks like. Ragged. Dirty. Exactly like the gargoyle he’s become to this place—to this onsen, specifically.

But the angel… he doesn’t look at Yuuri like that’s what he sees. Yuuri’s not exactly sure what he sees in those wide, blue eyes, but it isn’t… bad. Maybe this angel’s just very good at acting, but it still makes Yuuri’s heart beat a little faster. When was the last time someone looked at him with anything but disgust? When was the last time anyone _looked_ at him?

“Why are you here, Yuuri?” The angel murmurs, so close that Yuuri would only have to lean forward a few inches, at the most, to feel the heat of his breath.

But, no. This angel… he knows Yuuri’s _name_?

Yuuri pulls away, falling back into the few inches of snow blanketing the rooftop. His fingers dig into the carpet of white, but he finds no purchase to pull himself back with. Not that there was an escape from this situation to begin with. “H-how do you know my name?”

The angel tilts his head, looking almost like he wants to smile. “I’m afraid that isn’t information for one of the fallen.”

Yuuri winces. “Fine. I know what I did wrong, just… Please, what do you want?” Because Yuuri wants this conversation to _end. _He hasn’t talked to anyone this long, and about this raw of a subject in… well, probably since Yuuko passed away, if he’s being honest.

“I want to know why you’re out here, sitting in the snow, when you could do anything, and be anything on this earth.” The humor is gone from the angel’s face, instead those icy eyes are cutting right into Yuuri’s core.

And Yuuri can’t take that. He doesn’t want to be bare for anyone to see, not after so long of being able to do things just fine on his own. No one gets to have any piece of Yuuri without his own permission. “Then you’re going to be disappointed. It’s none of your damned business. I don’t even know your _name_, and you’re here to kill me.”

That damned, small smile blooms across the angel’s face. “Most of the other angels call me Victor.”

Yuuri stares at him for a long moment. “I guess we’re even, then.”

The angel—Victor’s smile falters. “You do know that I could kill you in an instant, don’t you?”

Yuuri bristles, his feathers rustling and fanning with irritation. “Yes. I’m _counting_ on it. So get it over with.”

Victor arches an eyebrow. “No.”

Yuuri blinks, and just… stares. “Aren’t you here to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“And… you aren’t going to do it?”

“No.” Victor sits down, cross-legged and facing Yuuri. “Not yet, at least.”

“But I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing.” Which isn’t to say a part of Yuuri doesn’t want to tell Victor, of course. To finally shed all his secrets and be done with it all.

But telling this angel anything about his perch here means revealing something even more precious than his own life, and he can’t risk it.

“Well, luckily I have an eternity to wait, then.” Victor smiles, and it’s bright, and cheerful, and it makes something in Yuuri’s stomach clench.

(He’s unsure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but something in him whispers so hopeful, so desperate that it’s something good.

Even if he knows better)

* * *

It’s strange to not be alone. In a way, it makes Yuuri feel even more lonely. There’s someone inches from him, but he can’t touch. He doesn’t dare talk, in case he lets anything slip. The two of them perch, side by side, and watch the comings and goings of the town in the deep snow for days.

Hasetsu typically doesn’t get snow like this, having more mild winters. And, well, if Yuuri lets some of the magic still in his veins run into the earth and help melt the ice and slush along the pathways for the onsen’s owners, Victor doesn’t say a thing. In fact, it seems like the roads in the rest of town are far less treacherous than they _should_ be, considering.

But Victor’s an archangel and wouldn’t use his own power to interfere like that. Angels aren’t allowed to have an impact that changes the course of fate and angers the higher powers, whatever the hell they may be.

(Yuuri’s stopped begging them for mercy a long time ago.)

So time passes the same, yet only slightly different… until Victor opens his mouth.

And for once time passes not as monotonous—but as torturous.

“Aren’t you bored?” Victor finally asks on the third day.

Yuuri gives him a look from the corner of his eye, but doesn’t answer besides that. He has his knees up to his chest, his arms folded on top of them, and his chin on top of that. It’s a position he’s sat in for days without moving before, this isn’t new to him. He can’t even remember if he ever felt bored doing this.

(Probably not, he knows. The grief was so heavy back when he first started his vigil that he could barely breathe, much less anything else.)

“Don’t you get sore? Or tired?” Victor says some days later, leaning in a little closer to Yuuri.

Yuuri tilts a little farther away, turning to glare at the angel with his pearly white wings tucked tight around him. He looks soft like that, almost sweet—but, too bad for the both of them, that doesn’t do a damn thing to counteract how annoying this being the universe spat at Yuuri is.

“You can leave. You have a job to do, don’t you?” Yuuri narrows his eyes.

And Victor… the archangel _pouts_. “Why are you so mean to me, Yuuri?”

“Why won’t you kill me already, Victor?” Yuuri snaps.

Victor winces, pulling back. “Ah. You’re still thinking about that, then.”

“Yes, I’m very much so thinking about the fact that my murderer is sitting right next to me, with his sword laying on the ground at his side.” Yuuri gives a shaky sigh. He will _not_ give this angel the gratification of knowing that he’s getting to Yuuri. He’s already going to kill him, in the end. Yuuri has one single shred of dignity left in his entire being, and he won’t let that be taken from him, too.

“Maybe I won’t kill you?”

Yuuri laughs, something colder than the air around them. “Well when you say it like _that_, it makes me trust you so much.”

“I just…” Victor huffs out a breath. “This isn’t usual.”

“What isn’t?” Yuuri actually turns and looks at Victor, tilting his head a little. This entire situation doesn’t _feel_ usual, but it isn’t as if Yuuri was an archangel and knows their ways. At most he was on the fringe of all the angels; a small, insignificant watchful eye over humanity. It was inevitable that he fell from grace.

“You.” Victor meets and holds Yuuri’s gaze. “You’re nothing like what I expected.”

Yuuri snorts. “I’m a fallen angel, like the hundreds of others that mess up and need to be eliminated from existence. I don’t know what you’re trying to get by flattering me, but—”

“I’m not trying to flatter you.” Victor reaches out a hand, hesitates, and then drops it. “I… that’s not what I’m trying to do. I want to know why you’re here, but I’m not going to force it from you like that. It’s not right.”

Ah yes. Justice and righteousness. How far Yuuri’s fallen that those aren’t top concerns for him anymore—though, to be honest, the lines around those concepts have been blurry at best, nonexistent at worse. He _should_ know these lines, innately. Angels are the hands of the higher power of this universe, they do the best they can to achieve peace and balance…

But Yuuri’s never heard directly from any God.

The only divine interference he’s ever seen, besides his own doings, is the darkened feathers on his back. No angel did that to him. No, the angels’ punishment… that was much worse.

“You’re just…” Victor takes a breath. “All of the other angels that I’ve chased were actively causing harm. Violence, death, pollution, something like that. They did whatever they wanted, swayed the mortals just because they could. I never felt guilty about swinging my sword.”

“You don’t have to be guilty about killing me,” Yuuri murmurs. “No one remembers me. No one will miss me. I’ve done something terrible enough to change my feathers—isn’t that enough?”

“No.” Victor shakes his head. “We all do things that we regret, all of us. Angel, mortal, and everything between.”

“I don’t regret it.” Yuuri closes his eyes, then turns back to the front yard of the onsen, assuming his usual position. “There are things that happened afterward that I regret. But what I did… I don’t know if I’d do it again, but…”

And, once again, everything goes quiet.

Yuuri could do without these interruptions. He could do without _Victor_. It's not that it takes much effort to watch the townspeople of Hasetsu. He could afford to be distracted for a few minutes, especially with how little the occupants of this onsen leave their house nowadays. He remembers having to fly to keep up with the busy occupants, spending his time being active around the town. But it's sleepier, lately. Yuuri has less to worry about. If he were to leave, permanently, right now… it wouldn't matter.

But he can’t stand _knowing_ that there's someone right there, watching and waiting to figure out all of Yuuri's secrets. Interrupting his sleepy observations with ridiculous conversations that dance around answers for either of them. It's ridiculous. It's _stupid_.

(Even though he loves it. He’ll never say it in so many words, but it's… nice to know that someone's with him. He's been alone for so long that even sitting next to someone he could call an enemy is a small comfort and warmth that he can't remember having known ever before.)

* * *

“Why are you wearing clothes?”

Yuuri resists the urge to reach out and strangle Victor. It would do nothing for either of them besides maybe _shut Victor up for two minutes_. Yuuri talking to Victor at all is a mistake. Now that he knows Yuuri will respond, Victor asks all sorts of things about the mortals below, curiosity shining earnestly in sharp, blue eyes.

And it isn't lost on Yuuri that Victor isn't asking about his past, that Victor never brings up anything even remotely related to angels.

It isn't lost on Yuuri how… endearing this angel is.

Archangels were always a concept to Yuuri. Something looming and terrifying and serious. He was happy to never so much as meet one—until one came to punish him as thoroughly as the angel knew how.

Which is to say very, _very_ thoroughly.

"Why _don't_ you wear clothes?" Yuuri retorts, even though he knows the answer already. Most angels lack the shame of their body that humans have developed. But Yuuri's accumulated shame in his body like one might collect stamps, or fine wine. A carefully curated and cared for collection of every flaw that Yuuri could possibly acquire.

(It could also be that Yuuri loved being around humans, that he spent enough time in their clothes and eating their food and laughing at their stories that Yuuri isn't sure if he's more angel or mortal. But that judgment is too kind and yet too blasphemous for someone like Yuuri.)

Victor opens his mouth, then shuts it, and gives a contemplative hum. “You know, I've never actually worn any. I've considered getting a belt for my sword, you know, so I don't have to bring it in and out of existence every time I need it, but the others say it’s too _primal_ to wear clothes. But some pieces of clothing look so nice and sleek! And other clothes look so _comfortable_. Not that we get frostbite or anything, but it must be so nice to not have snow going up your… well, you know.”

Yuuri squints at him. “How are you like this?”

“Like… what?” Victor asks, voice tentative.

Like he’s human. Like he’s passionate about things other than virtue and righteousness. Like he’s like _Yuuri_. “You just… you don’t seem very much like an archangel.”

Victor leans in a little closer, and though Yuuri stiffens, he doesn’t pull away. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not like them.”

Yuuri searches Victor’s face, then moves to his large, pearly white wings, then to the crystal-clear sword next to him that’s half-buried in the snow, and then back to his face again. “You sure look like one.”

“And I act like one most of the time, too! But…” Victor leans in even closer. “I have a theory. I think they’re _all_ just acting. ”

Yuuri snorts. “You’re saying that you think that they’re all just ridiculous and would sit with fallen angels and talk about clothes, and the weather, and dogs?”

“No. Well, maybe they would talk about dogs, have you _seen _dogs? But no, I think that angels are just as flawed and varied as humans, in some ways. But from when we’re born, we have to live up to standards. Terrible, beautiful standards. We think there’s an ideal angel, but… there isn’t one.”

Yuuri takes a moment to stare at Victor. “How are _you_ an archangel?”

“You’re so blunt, Yuuri! I love that about you.” Victor gives a wide smile, and Yuuri wonders how much of it is the blush that creeps into Yuuri’s cheeks entertains Victor. “But, I’ll tell you another secret, because I like you so much. I wondered the same thing when I was promoted. I do my very best, of course, but I know it’s not _perfect_, like an archangel should be. But they’re all flawed, some much more than me. I’ve seen every one of them make mistakes.”

“Then… why… why can’t _I _make mistakes?” Yuuri murmurs, tucking his head beneath his arms and bringing his wings in tight against his sides. His black, cursed wings that show his gravest mistake.

And he _knows_ why his mistake was so much worse than others. He knows why he will never be forgiven by anyone, least of all himself.

(Even if that’s what he craves most.)

For a long moment, Victor says nothing, and Yuuri holds back a sigh. Back to silence, then. This is how their cycle always goes, even if Victor’s starting more and more conversations as of late. But this time Yuuri screwed up and killed the subject.

And that does _not_ mean that Yuuri’s enjoying these talks. Or Victor. At all. He’s just lonely, and…

Maybe he does enjoy Victor, a little.

But he knows better than to get attached.

He knows that there are some things that you can _need_ with every fiber of your being, be sure that you can’t exist without them, and then have them wrenched from you without warning and without mercy.

And he knows what it’s like to have to keep moving forward, despite that.

Something brushes Yuuri’s arm, and he jumps, wings flaring out—

“I’m sorry! I should have asked!” Victor has his hand clutched to his chest, eyes wide and… afraid? Of what? What could Yuuri possibly do to him for touching him?

Yuuri lets out a shaky breath, slightly ashamed of his reaction. Well, it has been a long time since he’s been touched. “It’s… it’s fine.”

Victor freezes for a moment, and then tilts his head slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” _Please_.

But Victor doesn’t reach out again. Instead, very slowly, and maintaining eye contact, he shifts closer until their arms are touching and their wings are nestled against each other.

“Is… is this okay?” Victor murmurs, hesitant. Knowing him, probably wondering if he should’ve asked first, again.

But he’d given Yuuri plenty of time to move away or tell him to stop. Instead, Yuuri shifts a little closer until their hips are pressed together, and, before he even thinks about it, he rests his head onto Victor’s shoulder.

Victor lets out an awful, beautiful, shaky breath before gently placing his cheek against Yuuri’s hair. “Okay.”

It’s so warm, to have a body next to him. It’s so… _nice_.

It’s so terrifying.

Something in Yuuri feels propped up and slid back into place, like it’s settling and healing in an aching sort of way. As if something between them has shattered, and lodged itself deep into Yuuri’s chest. But how long will this last? How long can he have this before this archangel needs to complete his duties and take up his sword again?

(Maybe he won’t. A small part of Yuuri dares to hope that this ridiculous side of Victor is more real than the archangel side—but no one becomes an archangel by making easy choices like this.

He knows.

But he _hopes_.)

The sun arcs across the horizon, so slow yet fast at the same time, until there’s a streaking of dark purples and baby blues and lilacs spread across the sky. Spring is starting to settle into Hasetsu, or at least Yuuri thinks it is. He’s not sure about the time of year—hell, he’s not even sure about the _year_—but it’s getting a little warmer. The snow melts under the heat of the sun, which is partly good because sitting in snow is unfortunate, at best, but it’s a cushion as well. And the hard surface of the roof isn’t kind to him.

But, he’s been here for years. He’s used to it.

(Or at least, he should be.)

“Do you like it here?” Victor asks, voice soft. Like maybe he’s afraid of scaring Yuuri away—but, honestly, Yuuri’s too comfortable to move.

“I suppose so. I just…” Yuuri pulls in his wings a little tighter around him. “I have reasons to be here.”

“So I’ve gathered. Which, if it makes you feel better, I still have no clue about.” His words are rushed, like he has too much to say and no time to get it out.

But they have as long as Victor lets them have. Yuuri tries to let some of the tension seep from him—but he’s not sure he succeeds. “And you’re still curious about that? After watching me stare at the boring, ordinary mortal lives here for… how long have you been here?”

Victor’s quiet long enough that Yuuri’s not sure if they’re done with the conversation.

He’s not sure if he wants to be done with the conversation.

“This is where you originally worked, isn’t it? Before…?”

That gets Yuuri pulling away, looking at Victor’s face. His expression is blank in a way that’s obviously on purpose.

Yuuri’s feathers flare a little. “How do you know that? Oh.” He shrinks away. “They probably tell you those things when they…”

“Sometimes they do,” Victor agrees easily, his wings glowing a little in the dim afterglow of the sunset. “They… didn’t for you though. They only gave me a name.”

“Then… how?” Yuuri murmurs.

“I… remember you. From when your feathers were white. I saw you in Heaven once and I… I never forgot.” Victor glances away, toward where his hands are clenched on his thighs.

“_Me_?” Yuuri pulls completely away, standing up and flaring his wings, becoming a large shadow, an even darker shade of night. “I—I was _nothing_. And I don’t remember you. I just. I _existed_, until…”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Victor still won’t meet his eyes. “You… you smiled so brightly that I couldn’t help but notice. I couldn’t help but ask who you were. You moved like you were light itself. It lit up something in me, and… That’s all I knew of you. Your name, and where you guarded the mortals. When they told me your name for who I had to hunt down next, I…”

Yuuri’s wings flutter slightly at his sides, more of a shake than anything. “Is… is that why you didn’t kill me? Because of an old memory of someone who doesn’t even exist?”

Victor’s head snaps up to look at him. “You exist.”

“Not like you saw me. I’m not… _that_. I’m messy. I’m anxious. I’m quiet. I’ve only brought the people I love pain.” Yuuri gestures widely, trying and failing to encompass all that he’s left in ruins. “You don’t want… me. You want the idea of me.”

“I _wanted_ the idea of you. You’re right.” Victor smiles a little. “Maybe you’ve hurt others, but you haven’t hurt me. You wouldn’t, would you?”

“No.” Yuuri scowls. “Not on purpose. But you and I both know that you can’t stay here. They’ll notice when you don’t come back. I don’t know if they’ll look for you, but if you don’t go back, there will be repercussions.”

“And what if I don’t go back?” Victor’s voice is so hushed, his lips moving so faintly, that a part of Yuuri wonders if it’s a daydream.

(Yuuri knows it’s not. He remembers that feeling, from before he fell. Before he fully understood what falling meant.)

“What?” Yuuri squeaks, his hands trembling.

“Well, if we’re down here, and I have to leave eventually, what are we doing on this roof?” A smile spreads across Victor’s face, but it’s strained in an unnatural way across his cheeks. “There’s a wonderful hot spring right behind us that we could indulge in. I know you’ve seen it. You can’t have sat here this long in complete ignorance.”

“I know it’s there and I’m not going.” Yuuri crosses his arms tight to his chest. “And you’re avoiding things.”

“So are you.” Victor… Victor _winks_ at him and Yuuri’s brain stops for a solid second before restarting. “And I say it would be much more fun to avoid talking about things if we were enjoying the hot springs.”

“No! They aren’t ours. We’re not guests there. We can’t pay.”

“I’m sure that we can miracle up some money—” Victor’s eyes widen a bit. “That’s why this hot spring is the last one standing in the area, isn’t it? You’ve used your powers and blessed it. You’ve been blessing it so subtly for years that even other angels wouldn’t notice. And yet the people here still are affected and benefit from it. That’s so precise and amazing and… _Yuuri_.”

Warmth blooms along Yuuri’s cheeks. “It takes barely anything. It’s not impressive, it’s just…” It’s what little penance he can give. And it’s so deeply embedded into the earth and the water that, at this point, the blessing will stay long after he’s gone. The water will heal, the food will be delicious, and the house will always be warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It’s small, but it’s enough to keep them in business.

“That takes so much control. _Yuuri_.” Victor repeats his name like it’s a prayer, something blasphemous. “Now I absolutely have to try it.”

Victor sweeps to his feet and starts walking away, and Yuuri… Yuuri can only stare for a long moment at Victor’s retreating form and _oh, _he’d forgotten how stunning the angel was at full height. Somehow he seems even _more_ gorgeous now that Yuuri’s gotten to know the angel beneath that perfect exterior. And he can’t help but look at that silver hair long and trailing behind him, those long, graceful wings spreading—

No. No, no, no, _no_.

Yuuri sprints after him, fingers sliding through silky, white feathers as he fails to grip Victor before he’s in the air, softly lowering himself to the ground. Yuuri shifts his weight from foot to foot for a moment, trying to unravel the staticky ball of panic lodged in his chest. He can’t go down there. He can go anywhere else in Hasetsu, anywhere at all— but not the onsen. He… he can’t…

But if Victor _sees_, and Victor _knows_…

Before he can think any more about it, Yuuri leaps down, barely catching himself so that he lands softly next to Victor.

“Such fancy moves, Yuuri.” Victor smiles at him, and it’s softer than before, a little more real—

But that doesn’t _matter_.

“We can’t be here. Please.”

“Yuuri.” Victor tuts softly. “You’ve been here longer than anyone else has. You have to have noticed that every night, this time of the week, _no one_ comes out to use the onsen. The nights are still cold. People don’t want to brave it. And it’s the middle of the week—no one’s indulging in late-night dips.”

“But it’s not _late night_. The sun just set!” Yuuri’s eyes can’t stay still, flickering between the pools, the doors, and Victor. He knows that no one can see him, especially if he doesn’t want to be seen—but that’s the _point_.

Victor cups Yuuri’s face in his palms, dragging his attention back to him. “No one’s here. You’re filthy from spending who knows how long sitting up there, in all sorts of weather. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

A lump crawls up Yuuri’s throat and lodges itself there. He wants to lean into Victor’s hand. He wants to accept safety. He wants to accept someone who knows him.

But he can’t.

He swallows. “You can’t promise that. Not when you’re going to kill me.”

“Maybe I won’t kill you.” And this time, there’s no question in Victor’s voice. That “maybe” might as well not be there with the warmth in Victor’s voice, seeping into Yuuri’s veins and wrapping so tight around his heart he feels held and trapped all at once.

“We… we still shouldn’t…”

Victor runs a thumb along Yuuri’s cheek. “Let me take care of you. I’ll keep you safe. Just… just let me do this. If only this once. Please.”

Yuuri wants to resist… But Victor’s voice is so soft. So warm. So full of trust and asking for the same. Who _could_ resist?

(Yuuri could. He counts off all the infinite ways he could say no in his head—but something in him can’t pull the words out from his own lips. Something in him doesn’t want to deny Victor anything, the same way he’s done for Yuuri. Even if they still dance around each other, they grasp their hands together so tightly that Yuuri can’t imagine letting go.)

“Not for long,” Yuuri breathes into the air, almost hoping that the words won’t take form and will just drift away.

“Not for long,” Victor agrees, his hands sliding down Yuuri’s neck, and his arms, until he laces their fingers together and pulls Yuuri toward the building.

“Be quiet,” Yuuri whispers while Victor slides the door open quietly.

“Yes, of course.” Victor smiles at him as he pulls Yuuri in.

Every shuffle of feet on the ground and every rustle of feathers has Yuuri on edge. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He should run. He should…

He should notice that there’s something happening here. A pulse in the air that isn’t Yuuri’s own doing, the heart of the universe weaving around them, and keeping them… safe.

Victor’s smile grows as Yuuri’s eyes widen. “I told you I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

Yuuri’s shoulders fall, his wings going limp at his sides. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Yuuri.” And Victor opens his mouth, like he’d like to say something else—but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls Yuuri into the shower, and even though Yuuri knows no one will hear them, he winces at the noise. But then Victor’s hands gently, reverently, pull off his old, worn clothes, the brush of fingertips against Yuuri’s skin sending electric tingling through his whole body. And before he can come to terms with that sensation, he’s under the warm, _warm_ water, and then Victor’s fingers are in his hair, and he can’t help but melt against Victor.

Some part of his mind wonders if he should ask Victor how he knows that they need to bathe before stepping foot in the onsen. There are a lot of things he should ask. But he… he’s _tired._ He hasn’t felt another’s touch in centuries at this point, and _oh_ it feels like heaven in a way that Heaven never did.

Just their shoulders touching was enough to change Yuuri, but this, Victor’s fingers and hands moving across his skin just for the sheer purpose of taking care of him, it’s—

It’s almost too much.

(But not nearly enough.)

On some level, he knows what this intimacy could mean to others. He knows that to mortals and angels alike, it would be inappropriate. Nakedness is nothing new for their kind, but touch like this would be unwelcome from a stranger, to say the least. He knows what this would turn into, for others. But, that’s not what it is for them. For them, the only thing that haunts Yuuri is what the angels would say about them.

Yuuri’s fallen, tainted, and Victor’s pure. For Yuuri to look upon Victor in all his beauty and perfection, well. The sight should be the last thing that Yuuri ever sees.

But it isn’t.

It’s the sight that Yuuri’s had at his side for days, weeks, maybe even months. Time is insignificant after living so long.

But Victor’s touch is not.

The water rinses away all the soap that was so tenderly lathered into Yuuri’s skin and hair and feathers. Then Yuuri turns, hesitating the barest fraction of a second before reaching up and running his hands through Victor’s long, long hair.

“My turn,” Yuuri murmurs, a demand even if he still waits for Victor’s shaky nod before turning Victor around and gathering the soap to begin to clean off the dirt from the angel.

It shouldn’t feel so precious to be cleaning an _archangel_, of all things, but… it does. Victor leans so desperately into Yuuri’s firm touch that it almost seems like Victor’s gone as long without touch as Yuuri has.

Yuuri’s hands slow and still in their movements, gripping Victor tight around his waist. _Has_ anyone touched Victor? Because Yuuri knows what he would think about an archangel—he knows what he _did_ think of Victor. Untouchable, unreachable, perfect, pristine.

But Victor isn’t that.

He’s warm and relaxed in Yuuri’s hands—_Yuuri’s_ hands. One of the fallen. More flawed than anyone else. That’s who Victor chooses to stay with. Yuuri leans forward a bit, his breath ghosting along Victor’s back, but… he can’t. If Yuuri’s lips were to touch Victor, if Victor cared about someone whose wings are such a deep midnight black as much as Yuuri’s come to care for him, and one of them _acts_ on it… Victor’s wings will turn, too.

And oh, Yuuri cares for Victor.

It’s as unsettling as it is grounding to realize that he craves Victor’s presence so much. That he doesn’t know which boundaries he wouldn’t cross to keep Victor by his side.

(That is a dangerous, dangerous thought. One that got him cast out from Heaven and worse.)

“Yuuri?” Victor murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he turns to see what’s wrong.

Instead of answering with words, Yuuri tries to convey in touch what he’ll never say. That their talks may be ridiculous, but they mean more than anything else in Yuuri’s life. That the tidbits of information that Victor dares to tell of himself only make him all the more lovely. That his pout makes Yuuri feel like he could fly across the world again. That when Victor is so happy that his smile turns heart-shaped, Yuuri’s heart flutters in a way that makes him feel more alive than he’s ever felt before. That Victor’s skin against his own makes him feel at home enough that maybe, _maybe_, Yuuri could find his own reasons to keep fighting and to keep living again.

That Yuuri’s been denying how Victor makes him feel since the moment he laid eyes on him.

(He wonders if the higher powers are laughing at him. He wonders, with the most fragile of hope, if the higher powers would _give_ this to him. He knows better, of course he does. _But_.)

Yuuri can keep on going the way that he has been. He has the energy to run, more so than he’s had in years. It’s like he’s woken up from a long, long sleep, and the first face he’s seen was Victor’s. And he may have resented Victor for it, for a while, but now he can’t help but be grateful that it was him that drew Yuuri from where he’d been stranded.

Victor hasn’t changed Yuuri, per se. He’s pushed and pulled and tugged Yuuri from the cliff he was perched on the edge of, yes. But it’s more like…

Being around Victor is slowly bringing out what was good in Yuuri, again.

(Because Yuuri knows, deep in his bones, the only one who can heal him is himself. But is it so bad to reach out and take a helping hand on the path there?)

“There,” Yuuri murmurs as he finishes rinsing Victor off. He’s both eager to go out into the onsen—something he hasn’t done since before he was fallen—and unwilling to leave this safe, serene place that they’ve created. “Are you ready?”

Victor smiles, leaning back into Yuuri. “Yes. Of course.”

Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s middle, and then nuzzles his head a little into the curve of Victor’s neck. He’s careful to keep his mouth away, no matter how tempted he is to shift, to press his lips along the curve of Victor’s neck and then down every notch of his spine…

Yuuri pulls away, flushed and flustered, and instead takes Victor’s hand and leads him out of the house, back into the open, chilly air full of thin trails of steam rising from the water.

Despite all his earlier protests, it’s Yuuri who slips into the water first, sucking in a breath as the heat meets his skin after having been briefly cooled by the air around them. It’s nice, though, for the warmth to soak so thoroughly into his bones that have been cold for so, so long; to let his muscles relax, and to let his wings fan as much as they can across the surface of the water. His muscles _ache_ from being held so tense for so long—but the heat soothes.

Yuuri turns back to Victor to find him just… staring. There’s a halo of light around Victor from the electric lamps dimmed in the evening hours, eclipsing the natural, subtle glow he has in something far stronger. Victor’s face is half in shadow from it, but Yuuri’s skin prickles with the intensity of those eyes trained on him.

Still, Yuuri holds out a hand. “Aren’t you the one who wanted to sneak down here in the first place? Come on.”

A smile flickers across Victor’s lips as he reaches down, taking Yuuri’s hand and then slipping into the water—and not letting go. They settle in along the wall of the pool, close but not touching and letting the water and the heat and the grips on each other lull them into restfulness.

“How could you have stayed up there for so long and _not_ have spent at least half your time down here, Yuuri?” Victor practically moans, leaning his head back and revealing the arch of his throat.

Yuuri swallows. “You might not believe me, but I used to be busy up there, before the town became quiet.”

“But… that’s not the only reason, is it?” Victor cracks an eye open to look at him.

“Yeah.” Yuuri looks down at the water, running his free hand along the surface and focusing on the shapes the ripples make in the water. “I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Victor squeezes his hand.

Yuuri turns back to Victor, finding both of his eyes closed again. “But… isn’t that why you’re staying?”

“You could say that, I guess. I thought you would have put it together by now, but…” Victor takes a long breath, the barest little shake to it. “I’m here for you, now. I was intrigued, before. But the more time I spend on that roof, bickering and laughing with you? The more I realize that I feel more alive than I have in a long time. No one can live how I was trying to survive. Not even angels.”

Yuuri stiffens. That’s… wrong. Victor can’t know how that feels. He can’t know the exact feelings written across Yuuri’s soul. He’s successful, he’s _pure, _he’s—

He’s admitted to Yuuri before that he feels fragile and flawed. That he feels untouchable and untouched.

And suddenly there’s far too much distance between them, too large a space between two souls resonating at the same frequency.

Yuuri moves closer, and before Victor even has his eyes open, he’s resting his head on Victor’s shoulder, wrapping his arms and legs around him and brushing their wings together where they rest.

And Victor stiffens beneath him.

It takes every ounce of willpower Yuuri has not to tighten his grip more. “I’m sorry, I should have asked—”

“You _always_ have permission to touch me, Yuuri. However you like, wherever you like.” Victor breathes the words into Yuuri’s hair, wrapping his own arms around him until they might as well be a single entity, a being of tangled limbs and black and white feathers.

Yuuri stares at where their feathers press together, a stark contrast of white and black, and for the first time in years Yuuri truly and deeply regrets. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri chokes out.

Victor hums, a questioning noise, as his hands travel upwards to run through the down and hair along Yuuri’s neck and scalp.

“If I weren’t fallen, I wouldn’t—_you_ wouldn’t…” Victor would never have to leave. Victor would never be forced to kill Yuuri. Yuuri could hold him like this for an eternity—_longer_, if he could, until the aches inside them settle and heal, until their skin isn’t so starved for the touch of the other.

(Yuuri could kiss him. Yuuri could tell him that he’s finding his place in life again, with Victor by his side. But that’s blasphemous enough to stain wings black.)

Victor’s other arm curls around Yuuri’s waist, holding him firm and stable. “Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t have you any other way. In fact…” He goes quiet for a long stretch, but Yuuri feels the weight of this silence, much different from the companionable ones they’ve shared for so many days and nights. “I wish I could be as brave as you.”

Yuuri scoffs softly. “You don’t want this. _I _don’t want this.”

Victor nuzzles his head over the top of Yuuri’s “I don’t want to be an archangel. I don’t want to be an angel. I want to live, Yuuri, and there’s no life for me in Heaven.”

“Does it look like I’m living?” Yuuri spits out. “They didn’t just take the color of my wings. They didn’t just take my place in Heaven from me. Victor, what will they take from you?”

“I have nothing. I have no home. My family has long moved on, my friends are ones of convenience. Yuuri, I have _nothing_. For a long time, I’ve had no reason to stay, but no reason to leave, either.”

Yuuri pulls back some, as little as he can but still enough to meet Victor’s gaze and see the tears welling in them, the slight shake of his lips. And he just can’t imagine it. He has no idea how anyone in Heaven couldn’t love this soft man who so easily held out his heart for Yuuri to take hold of, after being alone for so long. But Yuuri knows it’s the truth, that the tears building in Victor’s eyes aren’t a lie.

So he takes Victor’s face in his hands, just like Victor had done earlier. But unlike that time, he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathes into the empty space between them. “I don’t want to be the reason you fall. I… I’ve already made too many mistakes. I have too many burdens to bear. I can’t add on another to that pile, not when it’s you.”

“I…” Victor looks down for a moment, before meeting Yuuri’s eyes again. “I understand that. I’m not ready to make a choice, right here, right now. But when I do, it will be _my_ choice. You can’t have it, Yuuri.”

“But I can’t…” Yuuri pulls his wings in tight, and Victor’s chase them, brilliant white wrapping around them both. “I can’t wreck anything else. I can’t be the temptation that ruins you, I’m not worth it.”

“You’re worth everything.” Victor leans in a little closer, almost _too_ close, making Yuuri’s hands shake where they rest against Victor’s cheeks. “But that won’t be why I fall. It will be a choice I make for myself.”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back the sting of tears. Victor’s talking like, on some level, he’s already made his choice. He knows what he wants.

(And Yuuri knows what _he_ wants, but he knows better than to take it. He _has_ to know better, for both of them.)

Victor leans in even further, his lips _so close_—

And Yuuri pulls away.

Victor’s face falls, but Yuuri still holds him tight.

“You can make that choice when your time comes, okay?” Yuuri brushes a thumb along Victor’s cheek, and he doesn’t miss the way that Victor’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment. “But I can’t bear this. I _can’t._ If you fall, you have to choose a way without me.”

This time Victor squeezes his eyes shut, and a distant part of Yuuri is grateful he’s not letting the tears fall. If Victor starts crying, then Yuuri will too, and he doesn’t want that. Not now, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s limbs. Not when they’re tangled up in the little happiness that beings like them aren’t allowed to have.

Yuuri pulls Victor close, nestling his head under his chin and running fingers through his silky, long hair. “But for now, I—” Yuuri scratches gently along Victor’s scalp, trying and failing to ignore the way that Victor’s wings tremble. “I won’t leave you. As long as you can stay, I’ll hold on and never let go. I can’t give you what you want, but I… This is something I want you to have.”

Victor’s grip tightens, his warm breaths shaky against Yuuri’s clavicle. “Please,” Victor begs, fingers digging hard enough into Yuuri’s skin that they might leave bruises.

(Yuuri hopes they leave bruises. A mark, something to prove that Victor was here—even if both Victor and the marks will go away eventually.)

Yuuri nuzzles into Victor’s hair. “Of course.” He wants to promise Victor that he’d give him anything—but he just said that isn’t possible, didn’t he?

So they fall into the familiar embrace of the quiet, only interrupted by the trickle and lap of water in the pools and the distant noise of faint life in this small town. It’s just Victor and Yuuri, Yuuri and Victor, as it feels like it’s been for a while now.

(As it _should_ be.)

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Yuuri stiffens, even as Victor runs hands down his side in what’s probably meant to be a comforting gesture, but is lost to the slow numbness of Yuuri’s skin, the ways his entire body both burns and loses all feeling.

All of his walls that Victor’s been slowly peeling away, one by one, slam back in place and Yuuri both wants to cower behind them and scramble at them, trying and failing to find purchase to scale them and feel Victor at his side again.

But he does neither of those.

A sort of mirage settles over Victor, his wings flickering out of existence in this dimension, and his hair, strangely, shone short, with a silvery fringe falling across his face.

“Yuuri,” Victor hisses, running a hand along one of Yuuri’s wings because, yes, in any other situation, Yuuri should hide them. Some humans are perceptive enough to see their wings, or at least glimpses of them, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.

But Yuuri doesn’t have to. He can, but he doesn’t have to. It doesn’t matter. Heaven help him, this is _exactly _why he didn’t want to come down here in the first place.

Victor gives him an odd look, but Yuuri can’t focus on that right now. Because Victor’s pulling out of Yuuri’s grasp, and turning away, and Yuuri feels like he’s adrift in his own mind. Like his body isn’t quite his, even if he can move his fingers and toes the same way he always has.

Victor says something, voice light, and Yuuri grasps somehow that he’s explaining that he has no place to go—that he’s lost, maybe? It’s a weak excuse, but it’s _Victor_. And Yuuri knows that the three individuals slowly creeping towards the pool will listen, same as he knows that him saying a word won’t help Victor. It won’t hurt, either. It won’t do anything.

Because Yuuri’s punishment is not just his fall from grace.

It’s not even his family’s fall from grace, which happened too, of course. You commit an act of treason as large as his, and the family is always blamed. He was wiped from their lives and their memories—but that’s not what hurts most.

Oh, it does hurt that he caused them to fall, he caused them to forget their lives and their purpose, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. And that’s not just because he was such a low-ranking angel that he can’t undo the curse that caused them to forget the fact that they’re angels, the curse that keeps them stuck in an endless cycle in a town Yuuri isn’t sure how to love anymore.

Yuuri can do nothing with his family because they cannot _see_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, pls don't kill me, yes?
> 
> I'm working with the amazing [Purin](https://linktr.ee/pawkaray) for this bang! :D We're still working on polishing the second part, but I hope to have it out in a couple weeks or so. It's completely written, so it will get posted—I _hate_ leaving things unfinished! Just don't murder me after this cliffhanger, pls, I beg you.
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for reading!!! Especially bless [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Dachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi/pseuds/Dachi) for betaing this BEAST. If you liked this, please feel free to live a comment or come scream at me on social media! :D
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp)


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri’s breaths become shorter and quicker as his parents’ and his sister’s eyes settle anywhere but on him. Mouths move and voices fill the air, all of them familiar, and none of them directed toward him. Never directed toward him.

Yuuri’s vision begins to blur completely out of focus, and time slides either too slow or too fast until his ears are ringing too much and he can’t hear. He can’t _anything._

“Please,” Yuuri hoarses out. “I _can’t_.”

A hand falls on Yuuri’s back, and he snaps his head around to find Victor looking at him, blue seeping into his vision and pushing away the darkness. Meeting his gaze. _Seeing_ him.

“We’re going to go inside, and pretend to—who am I kidding, that’s not important right now. Come on, we’ll dry off and then you’re following me, okay? I don’t think we have much time before they come back.”

_They_. So impersonal and unimportant—but of course they would be. Victor doesn’t know. Yuuri blinks a few tears from his eye, letting them slide down his face—but he holds it together. He manages to pull himself out of the water, but he… he’s unsteady. It feels like too simple a word for the way that Yuuri can’t sit right in his own body or his own thoughts.

But he holds out a hand, and Victor takes it, unquestioningly.

They dry each other off, though it holds none of the tenderness of before, not for Yuuri. Yuuri wraps himself in a jinbei, the motions rusty and yet familiar. Then he tries to help Victor, though he can’t seem to get it right on another person and Victor’s no help, his hands flitting around—nervous, maybe.

They go inside, and—

And Yuuri hides his face in Victor’s back, breathing in the soft, clean smell of the fabric as his wings lay limp behind him. He can’t look. He can’t watch their eyes not see him. He can’t stand knowing that he’s cursed them to this life.

Victor’s hand wraps around his wrist, pulling him up a flight of stairs and then into a room. There are boxes in here, quite a few of them, but there’s more than enough room for the futon laid out on the floor.

He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here. Victor will know—

Victor probably already knows.

“Yuuri!”

Victor’s face is in front of Yuuri’s and it strikes him that he doesn’t remember Victor getting there. He doesn’t remember Victor saying anything before that hushed, urgent whisper, but from the concern in Victor’s wide eyes, he’s probably said a few things that didn’t register with Yuuri.

“We shouldn’t have come down here,” Yuuri murmurs, voice flat.

“Well, they seem to be very nice, if… odd.” Victor tries to smile.

But he knows. Yuuri knows and Victor knows and… and…

A sob crawls up Yuuri’s throat, and he tries to muffle it, burying his face in his palms.

Seeing them from above, day in and day out, had a layer of distance. They lived separately from him. They had lives, he didn’t. They were untouchable. _He_ was untouchable.

Until Victor.

Hands guide Yuuri forward and move him, and by the time that Yuuri can breathe without his tears choking him, he finds he’s down on his side, on the futon, with Victor lying next to him—but not touching him at all. The futon isn’t large but he manages to put so much impossible room between them that Yuuri wonders if he magicked it that way. This angel is so ridiculous, Yuuri can’t imagine how Victor managed to become an archangel with these ridiculous wastes of power.

But Yuuri loves him for it.

Before thinking about it, Yuuri reaches out, needing to hold and make sure that this is real, that this evening is happening and Victor is really there. And it’s like all the tension that Yuurididn’t even realize Victor was holding seeps out from him and he surges forward, wrapping around Yuuri like _he_ needs comfort.

And, well. Maybe he does.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri winces at the sound of his own voice, rough from crying.

“Shhh, no.” Victor runs his hands through Yuuri’s hair. “I… I don’t understand. And I’m not very good with, well. Emotions. Anyone’s. Even my own. I’m really sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

“Just… keep doing what you’re doing.” Yuuri closes his eyes, nuzzling close to Victor. This will be easier if he doesn’t have to see him. “I… I’m _sorry_.”

Victor’s fingers keep stroking through his hair, no hesitation, even if the movements are a little frantic. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No. No, I… I should’ve said no. I knew better.” Of course any protections that Victor had in place wouldn’t protect them from other angels, not when Victor didn’t know they were a threat. And who knows how to interact with not-quite angels… it’s too complicated. “I knew. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I—”

“Yuuri, you don’t have to tell me. I know you’re… emotional right now, you can just rest, okay? No one will come in here until morning. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay.” Yuuri shakes his face a little against Victor. “No, I… I should’ve told you. Before we came down. Maybe not when we first met, but…”

“Yuuri.” The weight of Victor’s chin rests on Yuuri’s head. “I know how important this is, I understand if you don’t want me to know. I’m not… I’m not someone you trust, I understand.”

“You’re the only person I trust,” Yuuri murmurs in the safety of the darkness behind his eyelids. “You said you were alone in Heaven, but I’m alone here, too. Even though there are people around me, I can’t interact. I can’t be around, because… those people are my family. They took them from Heaven and from me, too.”

Victor’s breath catches. “They… they took their memories from them?”

Yuuri hums in affirmation.

“And they cast them out from Heaven, they’re fallen, and… they can’t see you?” His voice goes so quiet at the end, like he’s afraid of the question, but he still asks it anyway.

“Yeah. They can’t see me. They can’t hear me, they can’t touch me, they can’t know me. Because I…”

“_Yuuri_.” Victor’s hands stop their movement, instead cradling the back of Yuuri’s head.

And he doesn’t have to say anything more, not at this point. Yuuri could back down. He could never say a word to Victor about why he’s fallen, but… Victor deserves to know. Victor deserves the world, but right now he’s here with Yuuri and he deserves to know the fallen that he inexplicably decided to trust. He deserves to know what kind of person Yuuri is.

(Though Yuuri wants to tell Victor nothing. He wants to feel clean and pure in Victor’s arms—but that isn’t what he is. Even if he’s never explained anything to anyone, _he_ knows himself too well to ever be clean.)

“When I was much, much younger…” Yuuri opens his eyes to slits, taking in the green jinbei, basking in the faint glow of Victor’s half-corporeal wings. “I was in love. Or, I thought I was in love. With a human.” In retrospect, it wasn’t love. He’s seen a lot of loves in his long, long life, and he’s seen many, many crushes. That’s what he felt. Not… not this deeper, filling, aching thing he has with Victor.

Victor’s fingers press a little more solidly against the back of Yuuri’s scalp and neck, but he says nothing.

“Her name was Yuuko. She’s the only human that ever knew who I was. She was sweet, and beautiful, and so kind… But she was in love with someone else. She got married to him. I was happy to be around her, to get close to the residents of the town and keep them all happy. I gave her as many blessings as I could get away with—and she laughed at me.” Yuuri swallows. “It wasn’t enough, though.

“She… she had children. Triplets. Their descendants are still around town, you’ve seen them. I could point them out to you, but…” But what does it matter? Yuuri’s vision has never been the best, he watches the town through senses that mortals don’t have—he doesn’t get glasses because he doesn’t want to see Yuuko’s features in new people. “They were so young when she… there was an accident. She had a family. She didn’t _deserve_ it. So… I saved her.”

Tears begin to drip from Yuuri’s eyes, but he doesn’t stop. “It didn’t matter, though. I saved her life, my wings turned black, and a few years later she got so, so sick, and I didn’t have the same power I had when my wings were white. I thought that was it, that her death and my wings were my punishment—until my family appeared and settled into this onsen. I used to come here all the time with Yuuko and her family before I fell, but then the owners left. And… and my family somehow moved in. But they can’t see me. They don’t know me. They don’t remember what they are. There are things ripped out of their lives, and I _know_ they miss them, they feel the ache of what they once had, but they can’t remember. They didn’t deserve this. They didn’t deserve _me_.”

“_Yuuri_.” Victor clutches him closer, as tight as he can without smothering Yuuri.

“I know it’s bad. I know messing with fate is awful and unheard of and… and…”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri_.” Victor’s finger moves a little again, trying to stroke but almost too afraid to lose contact with Yuuri’s skin. “If I were you, I’d do the same thing.”

(But hasn’t he done the same thing? Yuuri was supposed to die, Victor didn’t kill him, and yet his wings are still white. Yuuri was just a worse angel from the beginning.)

“I deserve it. I deserve everything I’ve been through. But why them? What did they do that I—?” His voice breaks and the tears come harder and faster.

“You don’t deserve it. You _don’t_. They can’t have expected you to just… and fate _still_ happened. This is—this is cruel. And you’ve been here all alone, all this time, just watching over them? Even when…”

“Yeah. Though…” He snorts, though it sounds more like a sniff. “I can’t see them too well without glasses, but yeah.”

Victor huffs softly. “I didn’t know you needed glasses. We should get some.”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “I don’t want to see. I don’t want anything, I just…”

Victor hums, like he understands, and his fingers finally find a gentle, even rhythm. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything, it’s fine.” Technically, Victor was the one who begged for them to go into the onsen, but Yuuri’s the one who accepted the offer. Yuuri doesn’t blame Victor for his own mistakes.

“No, I didn’t, but… but Heaven did. And I’m with them.”

“Are you?” Yuuri unclenches his fingers from where he hadn’t realized they were curled in Victor’s clothes, splaying his fingers wide across Victor’s back, skin tickling with the ghostly touch of half-formed feathers.

From Yuuri’s perspective, Victor does as he’s told—but not always. Victor might have felt like a cog in the machine, with no more value than any other replaceable piece, but he’s made his own decisions again and again.

(He’s chosen Yuuri every single time.)

“I…” Victor trails off into silence, and Yuuri lets him.

Yuuri, in the moment, had no choice but to fall from Heaven’s grace. Victor has a choice.

And he’s not really sure what he wants Victor to choose.

“Will you be sleeping, do you think?” Victor murmurs, pulling back a little bit. An obvious deflection, but Yuuri lets it go.

Yuuri pulls back a little himself, looking to find unmistakable red rims around Victor’s eyes. Giving a soft hum, Yuuri reaches up and swipes away the trails of wet that run across Victor’s skin. “Probably not. I haven’t slept in… a long time. I don’t get that relaxed very often.” Even if he is tired more often than not.

Something about their nature means that angels don’t _have_ to sleep, but Yuuri’s always enjoyed it anyway.

“Okay. Then you should sit up.” Victor smiles slightly.

Yuuri narrows his eyes a bit. “Why?”

There we go; Victor’s grin grows to something wider and truer. “Because your wings are a mess and need a serious preening. I may have noticed before, but bathing with you made it even more clear. C’mon, up!”

But Yuuri really doesn’t have to move a muscle as Victor sits up, his hands and arms never leaving Yuuri. He does have to turn around, though, and he misses the constant contact—until Victor’s fingers begin to comb through his feathers and a shiver runs through every inch of Yuuri.

Victor had cleaned Yuuri, yes, but it wasn’t as thorough as a preening. Yuuri knows he’s been neglecting his own wings for a very, very long time. The debris might be washed out now, but there are still crooked and loose feathers, and they should be cleaner and shinier than they are. He’s watched Victor preen himself a few times on the rooftop, and something in him vaguely wondered if he should join in on the cleaning session and take care of himself. But there wasn’t a point, not when he wasn’t planning to use his wings to truly fly ever again.

Now he’s glad he waited for an entirely different reason.

An angel shouldn’t just let anyone touch their wings—they’re incredibly important, and preening can be painful if the one doing it isn’t careful. But Victor’s hands are so, so gentle as he corrects the alignment of Yuuri’s feathers, stroking through and drawing out loose ones. It will take ages to get Yuuri’s wings back to how they should be, but Victor doesn’t rush. He moves with precision and care, his touches arising goosebumps on Yuuri’s skin and making his eyes flutter shut.

When he was younger, Yuuri and his family would preen each others’ wings while chatting away. Not as thoroughly as this; it was more of a social thing than this, but one of Yuuri’s first memories is sitting on his mother’s lap as she cooed at him and slid some of Yuuri’s child down from his small wings.

Victor’s hands are different than Yuuri’s mother’s, infinitely so. But there’s still a familiar comfort in it. A sense of being… cared for. Of being…

Yuuri shifts, and his wings feel… different. Lighter and relieved. But there are no fingers on them or in them. No, in fact there are arms wrapped around him, and he’s pressed into something warm, and he’s laying down, and—

And Yuuri fell asleep.

He slept, he didn’t have horrible nightmares, and though he feels groggy, he’s also deeply and wholly _rested_. He curls his arms around the body that he’s using as a pillow, already familiar enough with it to know who it is.

A chuckle rumbles through the chest that Yuuri has his cheek pressed against. “Are you finally awake?”

Yuuri hums his acknowledgment, not so much as bothering to open his eyes.

“You’re cute when you’re like this,” Victor says, a smile evident in his voice as fingertips brush along Yuuri’s face.

He begins to grumble in response—but a knock on the door freezes him.

“Vicchan? Breakfast is ready, if you are.” Hiroko’s voice is familiar, ageless in a way. It’s something that slides right through all of the barriers Yuuri has precariously placed around his heart and clenches around it.

“Thank you!” Victor answers in near-perfect Japanese, only a slight accent revealing he isn’t a native speaker. “I’ll be down in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” Hiroko replies, before there’s the sound of her footsteps moving from the door.

They’re quiet for a long, long moment. Yuuri doesn’t know how to break it, and he’d bet that Victor doesn’t have a clue either. But one of them has to.

Yuuri takes a shaky breath. “How did you convince them to let you stay?”

“I said I was a foreigner, and crept in because I needed a bath and had no place to stay. They immediately offered a place to rest for as long as I needed to get back on my feet. They’re very nice people—almost too nice. I hope that they have some remaining instincts and somehow knew I was a trustworthy angel, or—” Victor’s jaw snaps closed.

Yuuri shifts to look up at Victor, his face illuminated by the dim light of morning. He really does look stunning with this short haircut. Yuuri wants to reach out and see how differently it feels in his fingers, but the way Victor’s mouth is pressed into a thin line and how wide his eyes are as they focus on Yuuri make him think maybe now’s not the right time.

“They were always good people, before and after. You should go and enjoy their hospitality.”

“But—_Yuuri_. I can’t just leave you.” Victor frowns.

“You won’t leave me. I’m just… I’m going out the window and back onto the roof. No one will miss me, anyway.”

“Except me,” Victor pouts.

Yuuri snorts, softly. “I’m not going away, okay? I’ll be here. You can see me whenever you like.”

Victor lets out a long sigh. “And you won’t…?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s just… When their eyes look right through me and see _nothing_, like I’m…”

“Okay.” Victor’s arms squeeze a little tighter around Yuuri. “I don’t understand, I can’t even imagine—but I could just come up with you, you know. I don’t have to go down at all. Maybe they’ll even tell stories about me, the disappearing guest.”

Yuuri snorts. “No. You’ve been stuck on that rooftop with me for who knows how long, enjoy them.”

(Enjoy them, because Yuuri _can’t_.)

“Fine, fine. Well then… we should get going, probably.”

And, eventually, they do. It’s not in any rush, and it takes far too long for Yuuri to move toward the window, and then to open it. At that point he doesn’t even look back before jumping out and catching himself with his wings—and _oh_ that does feel so, so much better, now that Victor’s straightened them up. He can’t even imagine how long that took, while he’d already fallen asleep…

Still, it’s only a matter of seconds before he finds himself on the rooftop, settling into his usual spot, and his usual position.

And it’s… different. The quiet that always settles over Yuuri, comfortable and familiar, is neither of those things. It’s grating, without the occasional rustle of Victor’s wings and his odd comments. It’s deafening.

A dog walks by, and Yuuri expects to hear an exclaimed remark, but he doesn’t. Time passes with absolutely no interruptions, just slipping away, and Yuuri… he wonders how he went so long being able to stand the isolation.

He does enjoy the quiet a little bit, at least. Having some space without anyone knowing he’s even there. It gives him some time to think.

It gives him some time to realize that, maybe, it’s not just Victor who he’s missing.

He hasn’t interacted with his family since long before he’d fallen. It’s one of his biggest regrets; that he got so wrapped up in what was happening down here on earth that he hadn’t even thought to go back to visit them. They were used to his ridiculous focus at that point, they would’ve understood his absence up until the point that it became more than that.

So, he never got to say goodbye, really. Not that they’re truly gone, he can see them whenever he wants.

But he’s always too afraid to learn if they’re suffering here. If they hate it. If they’d blame and shun Yuuri, if they knew.

Except… maybe that’s selfish of him, to not see them, to not know.

(Maybe Yuuri just wants to be by his family, for once.)

The sun sets, a sea of orange and purple in the sky as it dips down and stars begin to come back. It’s not long after that when Yuuri hears the rustle of feathers as someone lands next to him, so familiar a sound now, compared to the first time that it happened.

Yuuri turns, a grin spreading wide across his face before he can even think about it. Victor answers with one of his own, growing so large and heart-shaped that Yuuri feels a little bit like he’s flying.

Then Victor starts a little, turning and bending down. “Oh, I’d forgotten my sword up here.”

His angel-killing sword, a weapon more powerful than any human has known and Victor just… forgets it. Yuuri guffaws out a laugh before he can help himself.

Victor starts, blinking at Yuuri for a moment before the sword disappears from his hands into the ether and he walks forward, kneeling in front of Yuuri. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Yuuri leans forward, tugging Victor forward until he’s pretty much melting into Yuuri’s lap. “I know it’s silly, but I missed having you up here a little.”

“Even with all my interruptions?” Victor nuzzles into Yuuri’s hair, his hands sliding around and up Yuuri’s back until they’re gently buried in Yuuri’s wings.

“Hmm, now that you mention it… maybe I was better off.” Yuuri says, even if he grips Victor tighter.

“_Yuuri_,” Victor scolds, with a smile to his voice.

The sky darkens as they sit like that, Victor’s warmth seeping into Yuuri’s skin and into his soul. He _can_ keep doing this alone, sitting up here and keeping watch and helping where it’s allowed. But he doesn’t have to do it like he has been.

He doesn’t want to do it like that.

“Is my family making you stay longer?” Yuuri asks, voice soft.

Victor chuckles. “Yeah, they’re very… not quite overbearing, but… they care. A lot.” His fingers move down, tracing the shape of Yuuri’s spine. “I wish I could… share it.” He whispers the words so softly, that Yuuri almost doesn’t hear them.

“It’s…” Well, it isn’t all right, or okay, or anything. It sucks, in fact. “Let’s go to the room they gave you, okay?”

“Okay,” Victor agrees, even as he makes no move to get up.

With a lot of convincing and probably too much laughing, Yuuri pulls Victor from the rooftop until they’ve snuck in through the window, and Victor heads towards the futon, about to get in, but Yuuri grabs his arm, a small smile on his mouth. “I think it’s my turn, now.”

“For—? _Oh_.” A small gasp escapes Victor’s mouth and his half-there wings flare slightly as Yuuri drags a hand carefully through his feathers.

And Victor doesn’t need to be asked twice. He shrugs the shoulders off of his jinbei and sits down, his pearly white wings springing fully to life. Yuuri doesn’t have so much as a moment’s hesitation as he reaches forward and buries his fingers into the soft down along Victor’s back.

It isn’t lost on Yuuri how Victor’s breath stutters, or how he leans back into Yuuri’s touch. So he indulges him, moving his fingers slowly and deeply through his feathers. There’s far less to straighten and clean in Victor’s wings—knowing him, he’s already preened himself three times already. Still, Yuuri takes his time, trying to give Victor as much attention as he gave Yuuri yesterday, even if he had been asleep for part of it.

And it’s hard not to smile at the little sighs and hums that Victor gives him as he works, how he not-so-subtly shifts his wings so Yuuri can get to the right feathers, and goes limp beneath Yuuri’s touch once again.

When he’s done, Yuuri shifts closer to Victor, letting him slump against his chest as Yuuri’s arms wrap around Victor’s to keep him upright and close.

“Do you mind if I stay with you tomorrow? Down here, in the house.” Yuuri places his chin on Victor’s shoulder, a perch he’s getting far too familiar with.

Victor turns his head a little, eyes searching what he can glimpse of Yuuri’s face. “You don’t have to. I can leave and join you on the rooftop—”

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head. “I… it’s been a while, and I…”

(Yuuri wants to try and make sure he has something, anything, when Victor leaves to go back to Heaven. Even if it’s the shadows of people he once loved.)

“Then I don’t mind at all.” Victor smiles, turning in Yuuri’s arms and pulling him down until they’re both laying on the futon, in the most comfortable mess of legs entwined and arms clasped tight that Yuuri’s ever experienced.

It’s a little different from the desperate clutching of yesterday, but just as important, and just as wonderful, and…

And somehow, Yuuri manages to sleep again.

The next morning, they get up together. Victor changes into actual clothes, a black t-shirt and some jeans that are very, very flattering, and Yuuri slips into something similar that Victor hands him—and he won’t even attempt to question how he acquired clothes on such short notice. It’s eons yet not long enough by the time that they’re dressed and ready to go downstairs.

(Though “ready” isn’t the term that Yuuri would use for himself, ever.)

They slip downstairs, and it’s… it’s homey. It smells of sharp, savory food, warm wood, and the tang that only older houses seem to get. They step away from the bustle of the main room, close to how Yuuri remembers it, Victor’s hand taking his and pulling Yuuri forward.

“Are you sure?” Victor asks one last time as they stand next to an open door.

And despite Yuuri never being sure of anything, he nods. He has to. Now that he’s been around them again… he has to know.

Victor loosens his grip a little—probably trying to make it look a little more natural to people that can’t see Yuuri, and then walks in.

They’re all here.

Mari and Toshiya are bickering about something, maybe the idol music that they both love, or the sports they both watch—things Yuuri has heard and learned of from afar, through the years—while Hiroko smiles at them and sips her tea.

It’s so entirely familiar yet starkly different. The setting isn’t the same, none of his family has visible wings, and this isn’t quite what they’d be talking about so long ago… but it’s _them_. It’s Yuuri’s family. And he misses them _so much._

“Vicchan!” Hiroko calls, because of course Yuuri’s mother already loves Victor. Who wouldn’t love him? “Come in and eat. We were getting worried, but it seems like you just like to sleep in, hmm?”

Victor laughs, and it’s a sharp shock to hear that it’s not the open, honest laugh that he uses with Yuuri. It’s a little strained—nervous. “Your onsen is just so relaxing! Between the hot springs, the food, and the company, I’m sleeping more than I ever have before.”

Probably not entirely a lie, but Yuuri can see the tension in Victor’s shoulders, so Yuuri reaches out, placing his free palm there for just a moment.

Victor turns to flash a quick, grateful smile Yuuri’s way before he kneels down, only letting go of Yuuri’s hand to dig into his meal. He chats away with the whole of Yuuri’s family, as Yuuri dares to lean into Victor, grounding himself in his heat. And Victor’s careful to pause every once in a while to brush Yuuri’s arm, or his leg, or to nudge against him. He still sees Yuuri, he remembers Yuuri, and it’s a comfort of sorts, even if he’s only an observer among them.

In a way, it’s sort of a relief. They can’t blame him, they can’t hate him, they don’t know anything. But…

He hates that they can’t hear any of the words that come out of his mouth. It hurts how their eyes stare through him, nonexistent in their lives. Victor, an outsider, can say and do all he wants with them, but Yuuri… Yuuri can have nothing.

Yuuri’s not angry at Victor, though. Victor grounds him. Victor makes it so that Yuuri _can_ sit here and see them, and… and Yuuri does want this. He wants them. He’s missed them, and any inkling of what he can have both hurts and heals more than he could imagine.

Breakfast ends and Victor tries to help out with the chores around the household. Keyword: _tries_. Yuuri stands next to him, chuckling softly as Mari scolds him, folding clothes the right way behind their backs, or stirring a pot while Toshiya wraps up Victor’s cut finger—which he _could_ just heal, but Yuuri’s pretty sure Victor likes basking in the attention far too much.

Eventually, Hiroko forces Victor to eat lunch, and he chooses to sit in the main room where Yuuri hides his wings and himself, but Victor keeps sneaking him bits of food that Yuuri tries and fails not to moan about, much to Victor’s delight.

Afterward, they take a soak in the onsen, and Yuuri drapes himself across Victor in an otherwise thankfully empty pool. It isn’t the prime time for anyone to visit, which is… nice.

“How are you doing?” Victor asks, playing with the hair and feathers at the base of Yuuri’s skull. “You seem… stressed.”

Yuuri huffs, softly. “I am, but… it’s a little nice, too. I’m happy that they love you.”

Victor smiles, Yuuri can feel the movement of his cheek where their heads rest together. “They’re good people. Angels. Though I suppose they would have to be, to have given the world someone like you.”

“I’m not that special.” Yuuri reaches up, running his fingers through Victor’s feathers. “I’m like any other fallen angel.”

“You are _not_.” Victor clutches him a little tighter. “You… you’re perfect. You made a mistake, that isn’t even really a _mistake_, and you’ve punished yourself more than Heaven ever could. You try so _hard_ Yuuri. And you’re kind, and funny, and…”

And he’s toeing far too close to a line that Yuuri can’t get near, not after having spent all day around his family and the consequences of his actions.

He pulls away from Victor, but reaches up to run a hand through Victor’s short hair, appreciating the different weight of it between his fingers. “I… I think I’m done, for today. If it’s all right with you, I’ll go up to the rooftop.”

“Do you want me to join you?” Victor’s hands run down Yuuri’s sides before settling at his hips. “I think your family doesn’t need too much help with anything else.”

“No.” It takes so much effort to not lean forward and press his lips to Victor’s forehead, or his nose, or even his lips as he gets up and pulls himself away. “I love spending time with you, but I enjoy the quiet, too. Enjoy dinner, okay?”

Victor eyes him for a long moment, before nodding and letting his hands drift away in the water. “I’ll come and get you when I’m done, then? If you want to come to my room… but you don’t have to if you need space, Yuuri.”

(Oh, Yuuri _wants_. He wants this for the rest of his eternal life. But…)

“Yes.” Yuuri smiles. “Please.”

“Of course, Yuuri.” Victor returns his smile, and…

And Yuuri turns away before he does anything stupid.

Things settle into a bit of a routine from there. They wake—or rise, if they talk through the night instead of sleep— in the mornings, and for a while, Yuuri simply trails Victor and helps him with chores that they can’t afford to hire any help to get done. It’s honestly hilarious how bad Victor is at it, and he admits that he’s never had to live among humans before, and Yuuri tuts and teases him about it. Victor pretends to be put out, but Yuuri sees how his eyes shine.

And eventually Yuuri can’t help himself. He starts follows his family through their routine without Victor, watching over his mother’s shoulder as she manages the books and does the ordering and marketing that she can. His father spends most of his days in the kitchens, though he’ll often take the time to chat with customers, and gets into friendly debates about sports and politics and the like. Mari does a lot of the repairs and gets stuck with cleaning more often than not—if Victor doesn’t step up to take it.

And… they aren’t miserable. Not at all. But despite all of that, Yuuri sees how quickly they lose their smiles, how often they’ll stare into the distance with blank expressions. Looking for something, or wanting something, or… _something_, and whatever it is, Yuuri can’t give it to them.

By midday, Victor will round Yuuri up and share amazing, delicious scraps of his own meal with him, and they head out to the usually empty onsen. Sometimes there are a few people, but Victor and Yuuri always manage to find a corner where they can tuck themselves into the water together, take a quick rest and catch up on their days so far. And always, Yuuri leaves and perches on the roof, processing everything, and wondering how _so much_ has changed, and yet nearly everything’s the same.

(Yuuri’s not the same. He knows he’s not. Victor brings out all of the good parts of him that he’s long locked away, and he dreads the day that he has to shut down and hide it all away again.)

Then, once Victor’s done, he takes Yuuri from the rooftop and they’ll preen, or sleep, or something along those lines until morning comes, and they repeat the pattern.

It should feel repetitive, but it doesn’t. It feels like comfort, it feels like… home.

At least, until it doesn’t.

Victor’s helping Toshiya with lunch service, and Yuuri’s following him around, trying to make him giggle. It isn’t very hard, and the guests are very confused, but the smile on Victor’s face makes everything worth it—until the smile drops, along with the dirty plates that he’s holding.

Yuuri immediately runs forward, grabbing Victor’s hands, touching his arms, holding his face, and repeating his name until his eyes focus again, wide and desperate on his pale face.

“Are you all right?” Yuuri and his father almost ask in unison, jolting Victor out of his shock.

Victor gives a smile toward Toshiya, and Yuuri bites his tongue on the burn of being snubbed. “I think I just didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to rest a bit after I clean this mess, okay?”

Toshiya waves a hand. “I’ll clean it up. Go and rest, all right?”

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.” The obviously fake smile stays plastered on Victor’s face as he grabs Yuuri’s hand tightly and pulls him out of the room, almost tripping Yuuri over. But Yuuri doesn’t care.

He knows what’s going on, and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

They slip into Victor’s room—their room, really, and Victor closes the door behind them, leaning against it.

Yuuri wants to touch him, to step forward and take Victor in his arms—but he doesn’t know if he _should_.

“They contacted you.” There’s no use making it into a question, Yuuri knows.

Victor nods, closing his eyes as he settles his head against the door. “Heaven wants me to go back, as soon as possible.”

Yuuri takes a shaky breath. “Well… I… We knew this would come.”

“I’d hoped…” Victor whispers.

Of course Victor would be naive enough to hope that he was forgotten about, that Heaven would never need him again. But Yuuri knew. He always knew that he couldn’t have someone like Victor forever.

“When are you going?” Yuuri doesn’t want to ask the question, but he has to know. He needs to know.

“I…” Victor swallows, opening his eyes to look at Yuuri. “I can’t.”

Yuuri frowns, crushing that small part of him that wants to encourage Victor, keep him right here forever. “Victor, you have to.”

Victor steps forward, closing the distance between them and taking Yuuri’s hands so gently in his own, bringing them up to his chest. “I _can’t_ Yuuri. I… I was so empty, and now I’m so full, and I can’t let it go. I _can’t_. I feel so terrible about it, but Yuuri, I care about your family more than I’ve ever cared about mine. I’ve seen them more than I’ve ever seen mine in my entire lifetime. And _you_, Yuuri. Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri_.”

Victor leans in and presses his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I feel more alive with you than I ever have before. Even just sitting on a rooftop, watching and chatting, is the most I’ve ever felt listened to, or seen. I’m loud with you, I’m silly with you, and you don’t scold me and tell me I’m wrong. You smile at me, and you look at me with those lovely, warm eyes like this is the furthest thing from being blasphemous. Like I can be this and it’s all I need to be.”

“But… that’s true.” Yuuri turns his hands in Victor’s grip, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling Victor closer. “You’re perfect, Victor. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you’re absolutely ridiculous in the best ways.”

“B-but…” Victor gives a shaky smile, even if the tears start to fall down his face. “They don’t see me that way, Yuuri. I’m a tool. I’ve been forced into a mold that I was never meant to be in, and it strips away everything that I never even knew I was. I’m _nothing_ with those expectations placed on me. Just… just a _puppet_. And a-all I want is to be _your_ Victor. Not theirs. Not ever again. But so long as my wings are white, they command me and I… I can’t resist much longer, I feel it tugging at me already. I…”

Yuuri lets go of Victor for just a moment before wrapping his arms and his wings tight around him, shielding him from the world as best he can. He hadn’t worn a shirt that day to not hide his wings, and he’s never been more grateful to have them, even with their midnight feathers. And Victor clutches Yuuri like drowning man would cling to a life raft.

And right then, Yuuri doesn’t know which would be more selfish. Keeping Victor and letting him stay _Victor_, or making him go back and sparing him the same fate as Yuuri.

Except… Victor’s said that he doesn’t have a family to lose. No friends. Victor doesn’t even care about his powers, beyond making sure that dogs’ feet don’t get too cold in frigid weather, and liking his clothes to fit well—all things that Yuuri himself could do. The worst that they could do is send another archangel after them, and together, maybe, they could run if they had to. But if Victor’s fall from grace is less blasphemous than Yuuri’s and it took them _so long_ to send someone after Yuuri…

“Victor.” Yuuri pulls back enough to meet Victor’s eyes. “You’re sure about this?”

“About…?” Victor blinks, and then his jaw drops. “Oh. Yes. I am. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, and I’ve had a long, long life.”

“Then…” Yuuri takes a breath, trying to gather his will. “Then kiss me.”

Victor sucks in a breath. “Yuuri, I… I _can’t_ do that, you made a good point before. I can’t put this on you. I can’t let you bear this. I wouldn’t ask it of you—”

“I’m asking it of _you_.” Yuuri unwinds one of his arms from around Victor, instead bringing his hand up to cup Victor’s face. “You suggested it the first place, and back then I didn’t really understand. But now I do. It’s my choice. I want you to be my Victor, too. I want to be your Yuuri. For as long as we have left of eternity together.”

Victor leans into Yuuri’s hand, a broken smile spreading across his face. “If we were mortal, I’d say that sounds like a marriage proposal.”

Yuuri tries to smile back at him. “I would marry you, if you wanted. It’s beautiful, you know. The ceremony.” Even if Yuuri’s family could never attend, could never celebrate for Yuuri. They’d make it work. They have so far. “But… you have to make your choice. I’ve already made mine.”

“Yuuri.” His name is a whisper out of Victor’s lips as he leans forward, slow and steady despite the way that his fingers shake where they grip Yuuri. “I made my choice the moment I saw you, even if I didn’t know it yet. I will _always_ choose you.”

Then Victor leans in, and presses his lips to Yuuri’s.

And it’s _right._ It’s perfect to feel Victor everywhere around him, to take Victor’s lip between his teeth and give the gentlest of tugs, shivering as Victor’s warm gasp brushes across Yuuri’s skin. Victor’s fingers dig gently into the feathers along Yuuri’s back, tugging in a good sort of way, a way that reminds him that Victor’s here.

And he’s here to stay.

He reaches up and buries his own hands in Victor’s hair, devouring an enthusiastic whimper as he leans a little into Yuuri’s touch. Yuuri cracks his eyes open, dying to see his expression, and—

And he drops his grip.

“No,” Yuuri whispers, reaching out and running a hand along Victor’s fully-there wings.

Perfectly, pristinely white wings.

“It… maybe it isn’t instant?” Victor asks, voice just a little too high.

Yuuri shakes his head. His had already changed by the time he’d finished his blasphemous act, taking advantage of the seconds he was distracted to mar him as broken and defective to other angels. It’s an instant mark to warn other angels that you’ve sinned, regardless of the reason behind your actions.

Or at least it’s that way for all angels except for Victor.

And now… now Yuuri can’t have him.

“No. No, no, _no_.” Yuuri’s hands shake violently as he runs them through Victor’s feathers again and again. “C-can archangels not fall? Is it… We both knew that this was blasphemous, didn’t we? This should have—I should have…”

He isn’t even a good enough _demon_ to do this one goddamned simple task.

“It’s not your fault. It’s…” Victor shakes his head, eyes glimmering. “I don’t know, Yuuri. Maybe it’s just not enough.”

“It’s not…” Yuuri tries to choke out the words, but they keep getting caught in his throat. “_I’m_ not…?”

“No, never you, it’s not you, Yuuri. It’s me, I’m too… too much. I’m always too much, and this isn’t enough, but I don’t know what it would take, and I don’t want to try things like stealing and _murder_ and… and…” A small whine escapes from Victor’s throat. “I can’t, Yuuri.”

“I know,” Yuuri’s voice cracks as he turns his focus back to _Victor, _who is—regardless of the color of his wings—always, always Yuuri’s Victor. “I know.”

Victor pulls Yuuri closer, trying and failing to muffle his sob into Yuuri’s skin, and that’s what breaks down the last of Yuuri’s own walls, tears flooding his vision as they both hold on tight, barely managing to hold themselves upright.

It isn’t _fair_. None of it is. Yuuko being taken so early and so young was never what should have been. Yuuri’s family being cast out so brutally when it was Yuuri’s crime that they were paying for was too much. The fact that Victor, too sweet and innocent for his own good, is strapped into shackles too tightly to ever escape when all he deserves is to be able to _live_ is more blasphemous than anything Yuuri’s ever done.

“I h-hate this,” Yuuri mumbles, pulling Victor impossibly closer, like they could merge into a single being that would never have to be separated again. But they don’t get to have those sort of things. They get _nothing_. “I just want… all I want is _you_.”

Victor nods, frantic. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so _sorry_.”

“N-not your fault. It’s _theirs_. It’s always them.” Yuuri’s not wholly sure who “they” are, but he knows that Victor knows who he’s talking about. Whatever power governs the angels from afar, guides them and ruins them, it’s what’s at fault here. And there’s _nothing_ that they can do about that.

“I just… I don’t want to leave you, Yuuri.” He gasps, like it _hurts_ him to say those words. “Your family already—and I can’t abandon you, _too_.”

Yuuri wants to say, _then don’t_. But he remembers that pull, that guidance. There’s no disobeying it when it’s there. The fact that Victor’s resisted so long is a testament to how powerful he is—but is that a good thing, or a bad thing after what they’ve been through together?

Yuuri wishes they were just mortal. With finite lives, yes, but lives that they could spend together without any ridiculous laws, without knowing of Heaven and its power. Where they could meet and fall in love under simpler, easier terms, and get married, and spend the rest of their lives together…

“That’s it!” Victor jolts in Yuuri’s arms, standing up straight and nearly lifting Yuuri off the ground.

“W-what?” Yuuri tries to blink away his blurred vision, see if the smile beginning to spread across Victor’s face is true or not. “Victor?”

“My Yuuri.” Victor leans in and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead before pulling away, grabbing one of Yuuri’s hands and tugging. “I’ll talk while we walk, come on.”

“You’re making no sense, Victor!” Yuuri scrubs the tears away from his face as best he can with one hand, though it’s not like it matters with the fact that most of the people he cares about can’t even see him.

“None of this makes any sense. _But_,” he opens the door, leading Yuuri out and down the hall, “that’s the point. I was thinking of something, _anything_ I could do more blasphemous that I could live with and make it so I wouldn’t have to leave you all alone here. I thought about messing with fate, but what if they took _you _from me, the same way they took your family from you? And that’s when I realized that maybe I’m too broken to be able to fall and find freedom, but I could be looking at this from the wrong angle. Maybe I can still save you from being lonely even if…”

“What?” Yuuri barely manages to get any words out as they nearly leap down the stairs, Victor barely remembering to cover his wings as they enter the public area. “But Victor, without you… Victor, I don’t want anyone but you. I don’t _care_ about being lonely if it’s not you.”

Victor turns back toward him, and that smile is most definitely _not_ a happy one, strained across his face. “That isn’t true.”

“Victor!” Toshiya pops out from the kitchen, a concerned crease in his brow. “Are you feeling better? It hasn’t been that long, and… What happened to your shirt, why is it all ripped up?”

Oh. Victor’s wings. They ripped through his shirt when he’d kissed Yuuri…

Victor manages a chuckle. “It’s a bit of a long story. And I am feeling a little better, but if you can spare a moment, can I speak with you? And Hiroko and Mari. In the family area, please. I know that lunch is just finishing up, but this is urgent.”

For a moment Toshiya frowns, face pinched like he might just say no, push the issue… but he nods. “We’ll meet you in the dining area. Go sit down, you look like you might keel over any second.”

“Yes, thank you so much.” Victor turns without a moment’s hesitation, still holding on so that Yuuri trails behind him. Yuuri wishes he had a shirt on that he could offer Victor, but it would be too tight anyway, and…

And that isn’t what he should be worried about right now.

“Victor, I don’t understand what you’re doing.” Yuuri follows Victor’s lead, taking a seat next to him at the table, tucking his legs beneath himself. “You’re going to… make sure I’m not alone? But I mean it, Victor. If it isn’t you, I don’t care. All other angels see are the color of my wings, and…”

“I… I don’t want to say anything to get your hopes up.” Vitor runs a thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles, eyes flicking toward him but not settling anywhere. Nervous.

It’s funny, when Victor first came here, Yuuri would never have thought an archangel could be nervous. But there’s a lot of things he thought could never be that are happening right now.

(Even if it’s all going to be taken from him, as was inevitable.)

“If it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to let you down. I don’t want to build your hopes up, and hurt you again.” Victor finally focuses on Yuuri, leaning in and—after a second’s hesitation—pressing his lips to Yuuri’s forehead.

“Again?” Yuuri leans into Victor’s brief touch before it’s gone.

“I wanted… I have to leave.” Victor squeezes their hands, still linked.

“But Victor, I knew you were going back.” Yuuri sits a little straighter. “It’s not _your_ fault.”

Victor gives him a bit of a sad smile—but then it doesn’t matter, because the rest of the Katsukis flood the room.

“Vicchan, what’s wrong?” Hiroko comes around the table, taking Victor’s face in her palms, twisting it this way and that before feeling for a fever.

“Ah, nothing for you all to worry about.” Victor gives a sad sort of smile, standing up and letting Yuuri’s hand drop.

(And that really shouldn’t hurt—but _everything_ hurts right now. Why not add more salt to the wound?)

“What?” Mari snaps, stepping closer and placing a hand on Hiroko’s shoulder. “Victor, you really don’t look okay. Did someone hurt you? Your shirt…”

“Oh.” Victor turns his head a little. “That.”

And… and his wings flare to life, just as bright and pure as ever.

“Victor!” Yuuri hisses, reaching up and yanking on one of the wings that are in_ perfectly clear view of his whole family, _as he rises to his feet. “What are you _doing_?”

Victor glances down, mouth popped open in surprise, like he would expect Yuuri to do anything _besides_ freak out after seeing this. He shakes his head slightly before turning back toward the other Katsukis… who just blink in shock.

From what Yuuri hears, the typical reaction to this kind of display is crying, or screaming, or falling to their knees, or all of the above. But the most that the three of them do is exchange confused glances with each other, squinting at the glowing feathers.

But they don’t exactly fit the usual mold of people seeing angels for the first time, considering that they themselves were once angels.

“What are you?” Toshiya asks, forming his words carefully.

“Ah, but you know already, don’t you?” Finally, Victor turns towards Yuuri, raising his wings around them as he leans forward and presses his lips to Yuuri, running his hands through his hair. “You say it’s not my fault, but on some level we both knew I would have to leave. I never meant to give you anything I would have to take away, and I want to make that up to you.”

“You owe me _nothing_, Victor.” Yuuri wraps his own arms around Victor’s waist, his wings falling a little behind him. “I still have so much, even if you’re—” He chokes on the word, his eyes burning, and he’s not giving into _that_ again.

“Exactly. And, at this point, your family is my family, too. And you all deserve to be happy.” Victor releases them from the cocoon of his wings, wrapping an arm around Yuuri as he turns toward the Katsukis.

They stare at Victor’s awkwardly hanging arm in varying states of confusion, but no one says anything.

“I’ll be honest, I hadn’t even thought of doing something like this before now.” Victor shrugs, eyes flicking between Mari, Toshiya, and Hiroko. “We can meddle in the affairs of humans, even if we’re taught not to, but celestial power and punishments are absolutes. Or, well. That’s what we’ve been told.”

Victor reaches out a hand, a glowing light blinding the room for a moment before a sword appears in his hand.

Yuuri snorts softly. How dramatic. Victor didn’t make this much of a spectacle when he put the sword away, and…

Yuuri’s going to miss this man so much.

“Is that a _sword_?” Mari jabs an accusatory finger at the glittering blade, and Yuuri has to bite back the retort that he would give if he could ever be her sibling again.

“Yes. I, well, I’m sorry that I had to get you away from everyone else like this, I don’t want to worry you. And… I really hope that this works.” Victor turns his sword so that it’s facing the ground, taking his arm away from Yuuri to grasp the hilt with both hands, and strikes downward with such a force that it jolts straight through Yuuri, unsettling him and making his head spin—

But… It’s not in a physical sort of way. The house doesn’t rattle, none of the picture frames on the wall shift, nothing moves except maybe the slight vibration of the floorboards as Victor’s blade slides into it as if it’s soft butter.

Instead, pulses strike through Yuuri like electricity, like blood through his veins—except this _stings_. Worse than the pain of a limb falling asleep, making the minute movements of his involuntary gasp of air a burning agony. Why would Victor do _this_? What _is_ this? Just _stop_ it—

And it does stop. It must have been short, the shadows in the room are the same as they were when the sword struck through the floor.

Yuuri heaves in air, his body shaking as he tries to resettle into his skin. Everything’s the same, he’s not injured… But not _everything_ is the same. The blessings that Yuuri’s laced into this land, a steady undercurrent in the soles of his feet and a comforting little hum in the air, are gone. All the layers are stripped away, and the sensations around him, _in_ everything, are startlingly bare.

His years upon years upon _years_ of work just, gone, in an instant.

Yuuri glances up, fully intending to demand to know what Victor’s trying to do, but something black catches Yuuri’s eye. A _lot_ of black.

Mari, Hiroko, and Toshiya all have feathers, all black, even if their shades vary ever so slightly; Toshiya’s are paler than Hiroko’s, and Mari’s have a slight hue of brown to them… but they’re there. Yuuri’s heart drops a little at the slight. He’s hoped that, even though his family might be stuck down here, they wouldn’t be shackled with the same dark colors that Yuuri has.

But that thought flees Yuuri’s mind the moment he notices that every single one of their eyes are pinned on him.

Once again, tears prick at Yuuri’s eyes, but for the first time in ages, it’s not for a bad reason. “M-mom? Dad? Mari?”

Hiroko doesn’t say anything until she strides forward and wraps her arms around Yuuri. “My _son_.”

The words _shatter_ Yuuri, heart and soul, and tears pour from his face as he holds Hiroko in return. Toshiya and Mari rush in afterward, nearly crushing him between all of the embraces.

He can’t have this

He shouldn’t have this

He’d settled himself into an eternity of watching them pass him by, unseeing and uncaring, but…

But he _has_ them. He sees them and he’s seen, and they’re _holding_ him as if he’s never done a thing wrong and _he loves them so, so much_.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, clutching them as best and as hard as he can. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry_.”

“_Yuuri_.” Mari shakes her head, and Yuuri feels it more than he sees it. “_Why_ are you apologizing? We’re the ones who forgot about you for… how long has it been?”

“I… I don’t know. But it’s been a _long time_ and you’ve been stuck here, like this, living the same life and same days over again because I made a bad choice, and I… I’m so _sorry_.”

“Yuuri. What happened to us wasn’t your fault.” Toshiya’s hand falls on Yuuri’s head, giving a gentle ruffle.

“But it was a _punishment_, for me falling—”

“No.” Hiroko smiles at him, bright and beaming despite the darkness of her feathers. “No, we made that choice. We fought for you, Yuuri. We chose to fight what happened to you, and they decided to take you from us, as our punishment for resisting. They told us to stop, or there would be consequences. But we didn’t. We _chose_ this.”

They… no. This is Yuuri’s fault. It’s been Yuuri’s fault for so long, he can barely remember how it feels for his family’s fate _not_ to be a noose around his neck, just waiting to get too tight to manage.

It is still Yuuri’s fault. If he hadn’t fallen, they wouldn’t have had to make this choice, but…

This isn’t his punishment to bear.

It isn’t the weight of his crimes on his shoulders.

His family didn’t hate him for what he did, behind the layers of buried memories

His family did _this_ for him, because they loved him.

Because they _love_ him.

Yuuri sobs, a broken, joyous noise as he embraces his family as best as he can with his wings and his arms. Their arms and wings are around him too, holding him and brushing him, hands running through his hair, fingers wiping the tears from his face as they fall—fighting a losing battle, but still trying, still caring, and it only makes Yuuri cry harder.

“I missed you,” Yuuri dares to admit, voice breaking. “I love you.”

“We missed you, too.” Mari leans in to give him a peck on his head, making Yuuri laugh.

Hiroko pulls away a bit, startling Yuuri from this moment, this nest of loved ones.

“Don’t try to escape, Vicchan,” Hiroko scolds firmly. “I don’t need to have seen Yuuri these past weeks to know that this whole family is yours, too.”

Yuuri freezes, all of the light and happiness in him dimming and twisting into something sharp and crooked. Victor… has to leave. Victor said that this was so that Yuuri didn’t have to be alone—and he doesn’t now. He wants to spend his days, months, _years_, getting to know his family again. But _Victor_.

Maybe… maybe they could work it out so that whenever Victor needs to come down here, he could visit. It will be… hard. They’ve had each other whenever they’ve needed the other for so long that it feels like Yuuri’s offering to slice off one of his own limbs—but it’s better than Victor going and never returning. Even if it’s decades, or longer, between when they see each other. Yuuri’s just seen firsthand how powerful Victor is, so he doubts he’s sent down here often for ordinary tasks, but…

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice is high, desperate, broken. Hoping and asking for permission to join them that he fears he won’t get, but that Yuuri will never deny.

And Yuuri turns toward him, toward that need, already starting to reach out—until he actually sees Victor.

He’s trembling like a leaf in the wind, and distantly Yuuri thinks that he should do something about that, but…

But Victor’s wings are black.

A deep, dark sheen that might even rival Yuuri’s in how black they are, shining with how clean and preened Victor keeps them. They contrast so beautifully with his hair, making his eyes even sharper, and bluer, and…

Yuuri shouldn’t be appreciating how beautiful his Victor looks as a fallen angel, but he is. He loves it. He adores _everything_ about Victor.

He raises both arms in invitation to his lovely, lovely Victor, and a teary, heart-shaped smile blooms across Victor’s face, almost relieved.

(As if there was any way, in any world, that Yuuri would not completely adore Victor.)

Yuuri can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat as Victor rushes to join them, and Yuuri’s wrapped in too many arms, covered in so many wings, all black in color, but that doesn’t matter.

In fact, Yuuri’s never so been grateful for the color of his wings before.

Yuuri… he has his family, fuller and more _here_ than he ever dared to imagine that he could have.

And he’ll never let them go.

* * *

“How does it look?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, even as he holds out his hand before Victor even lands—his Victor.

And Victor, as always, takes it happily and enthusiastically, using it as an excuse to plop on the rooftop next to Yuuri and nuzzle into his side.

(Not that Victor would ever need an excuse, not with Yuuri.)

“_Yuuri_, you can’t avoid answering.” Victor leans his head against Yuuri’s, and he doesn’t need to turn and look to see the smile spread across his face.

Yuuri sighs, eyes searching the crisp, clear pink and orange clouds as the sun sets. “It’s… different.”

Victor hums. “But do you like it?”

“I… I think so.” Yuuri reaches up with his free hand adjusting the glasses on his face. “A good kind of different. I’ve never liked change much, but this is good.”

“There have been a lot of changes, these past few months.” Victor’s grip tightens a little, a comfort of skin pressed against skin.

He isn’t wrong. Yuuri’s life went from being defined for years and years by its unchanging, unyielding nature, only to drop out under him in a freefall of trust and faith.

(Yuuri thought that he’d lost both of those things long ago; trust and faith. He hadn’t, they’d just been hurt and starved until they found new, better homes in Yuuri’s new life.)

Instead of being on the rooftop night and day, Yuuri and Victor now share that cleared out room inside the onsen. Instead of having next to nothing to do, Yuuri’s hands are always full helping at the onsen, or walking with Victor around town, and now they’re even planning on taking a trip soon, too. Instead of being alone, Yuuri has his mother who smiles at him like he hangs the world; Yuuri has his father, who feeds him so much that he’s already putting on a little weight; Yuuri has his sister, who he teases and bickers with exactly like he remembers; and Yuuri has… Victor.

He can’t imagine what life would be like if Victor hadn’t landed next to him, sword and all. He does know he wouldn’t be the same person. He wouldn’t laugh as easily, and he certainly wouldn’t be so loved.

“They’re good changes, though.” Yuuri smiles. “The best I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

“Your _whole_ life?” Victor takes a moment, shifting a little. “That’s a long time.”

“It is.” Yuuri lets his eyes slide close. “And I still mean it.”

“Then why are you up here on the rooftop?” Victor’s voice is carefully neutral, probably asking the question he’d wanted to ask all along.

“I just… I wanted to see. Everything I haven’t seen before. Everything that’s changed, since… Well, since everything changed.”

“Ah, I see.”

They lapse into silence, familiar and comfortable. They talk, and they talk often, so silence isn’t as common for them as it was in the beginning, but it’s still something they know how to share well.

“Do you find it wanting?” Victor finally asks.

“Hmm?” Yuuri’s eyes flutter open.

“Is there anything you would change, if you could?”

Yuuri can’t help himself, he smiles as he lets go of Victor’s hand, reaching across his body to lace the fingers of their right hands together. He lifts their joined hands up, so, so happy he can see it crystal clear with his glasses as their matching rings glint in the light of the sun.

“No.” Yuuri beams. “I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

“_Yuuri_,” Victor mutters before he turns, crawling into Yuuri’s lap, and staring into his eyes. “I love you. More than anything.”

“More than katsudon?” Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “I heard the noises you were making while you were eating it.”

A soft smile spreads across Victor’s face as he leans in, gently removing Yuuri’s glasses and setting them aside before he slots their mouths together, lips moving slowly and sensually in a way that still makes shivers run down Yuuri’s spine.

Victor pulls away, but only enough to whisper, “Yes. Nothing compares to you.”

“Mmm.” Yuuri brushes their noses together. “Good. Because I love you more than katsudon, too.”

Yuuri pulls Victor in again, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue into Victor’s mouth and getting an appreciative hum in return. Their hands move and wander, their bodies shifting until there’s no space between them, encased in a halo of gleaming, black feathers.

He loves them. He loves their wings, he loves who they are, and he loves the future that’s set out ahead of him.

They have a lot of life and changes left ahead of them, eternity stretching in a slow, lazy road into the distance.

But this?

Yuuri would never want anything different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: I forgot I wanted to put this in my end notes! If anyone's worried about Heaven coming back for them at the end, don't be! A few centuries later they send Yurio down to get them, but all that happens is a lot of snark and anger and he gets adopted into the fam. Idk if he'd fall, but it'd be a lot less dramatic than Victuuri.
> 
> I'M ALIVE!!!!!! It is Wild waiting more than a week to post chapters, I don't like it, I don't think I'll do that again. I hope that you enjoyed the ride, though!!! If you did, consider dropping a comment down below? I wrote this fic over a whirlwind of a weekend, but it's still one of my favorites I've ever posted. :D
> 
> And here's a link to Purin's lovely art on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pawkaray/status/1237126047864360960) and [Tumblr](https://pawkaray.tumblr.com/post/612146937088606208/shows-up-5-months-late-with-starbucks-this)! GO GIVE THEM LOVE FOR THEY'RE AMAZING, SOFTE PIECE!!!
> 
> Again, thank you to [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/) and [Dachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi/pseuds/Dachi) for betaing this monster of a fic! And thank you guys so much for reading!!! <3
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//) | [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp)


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